The Seeker's Passage
by The Noble Rot
Summary: The Emperor kept a number of concubines for his personal uses. This is the story of one of them.
1. Chapter 1

Seekers Passage

Look all around you and notice you're not alone We want to give you the courage to go a different way.  
Think of the love and attention we all have shown.  
What did we do when we heard, why we all came right away.

I know what you need.  
This will really work.  
In ancient times when you were sick they made you bleed Oh honey, I know it hurts...

- Rasputina, 'Signs of the Zodiac'-

* * *

"If there was ever a more hard-working person in the galaxy, I should very much like to meet him." Dax moaned, removing his white Storm Trooper's helmet. The day had been long and ridiculously hot, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. Weariness, a fatigue that came as much from his heart as from the irritating pain in his body, caused his shoulders to sag.  
He sat down heavily on a steel bench bolted to the floor.  
"All that aside, I guess I should begin the story."  
"Whenever you're ready, Trooper XR775." The Disciplinary Officer was a slight man with a very unbecoming pot belly straining against the starched fabric of his uniform. His pen hovered above the pad of paper in his lap expectantly while he watched Dax with cold dead fish eyes.  
"You've got to believe that none of this was her fault."  
"The Empire will judge her. She will be given a fair trial. Now on to your deposition, if you don't mind?"  
Dax shrugged, thinking that he very much minded, in fact. But after a deep breath, he began to speak.  
"There aren't any female Storm Troopers for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean that women are completely useless to the Emperor. He keeps concubines, as many people know. Some of them are trained in combat, to act as sleeper units in times of need. Djana was one of them. What she lost of herself in the Emperor's bed she gained tenfold in her Dark Force powers. But she hated it. Oh god how she hated it"  
"I understand. But what led to the crime that she has been accused of."  
Dax fiddled with the rim of his helmet, not meeting the other man's eyes.  
"Look, I know you need to pin this on someone, and she makes a good target. But before you recommend that the officers sign her Purification and Execution order, you need to hear the whole story. She was the Emperor's pet, but she never loved him. Her heart belonged to someone else, someone she could never have."  
"You are referring to her companionship with the late Lord Vader?"  
"Yes. But don't say it like that. They weren't companions. There was never anything between them like that. It was...different. She worshipped him."  
"Many did. And still do."  
Dax shook his head slowly.  
"No. This was different. I don't know how to explain it."  
"Please try, Trooper," the psychologist prompted, "You were her only friend. You are the one individual who might be able to offer some insight into this mess."  
"For Djana, I'll try. But you need to hear it from the beginning..."

Djana Eleison wasn't exactly beautiful, not in the classic sense. Her eyes weren't huge and luminous, her hair didn't fall in soft waves down her back, and she didn't have skin like milk. But somehow, men responded to her as they seldom did with other, more beautiful women. Djana knew why. It was the pheremones. Her people, the Gigans, gave off subtle waves of musky perfume at all times, most especially when they were very angry or very aroused. It was always the former these days.  
The Emperor had first found Djana in a shitty little penal colony near the Outer Rim where she was serving a twenty year sentence for theft. She didn't even know he was there, or that he'd seen her. Anyone could have been in that observation tower at any time, and no one on the Rim ever expected to be the subject of Imperial scrutiny. Still, she'd somehow attracted his attention, and had been sent for late one night to come to the barracks.  
The guards that came for her weren't like anything she'd ever seen. Huge, menacing, and dressed all in red robes of the finest cloth money could buy. A few penal guards were with them, tasers at the ready, and she had no choice but to get up from her filthy pallet, throw on a prison-issue cloak, and go quietly.  
Down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, through a heavy set of steel doors and into a private rooom.  
"Get in." One of the penal guards gestured with his taser at, of all things, a tub full of steaming water.  
"Why?" Djana asked, genuinely mystified.  
"Just do it, prisoner. And take off those rags."  
"Not on your life."  
The guard sighed in exasperation, clearly losing patience.  
"Look, I'm not interested in having messy forcible sex with a prisoner. I just got married last month. And she isn't a convicted thief. Now get in the damn tub and wash yourself. I'll turn my back, but don't expect the Imperial Guards to do so. Just get it over with the easy way and don't give me a headache tonight, ok Gigan?"  
Djana glared at him for a moment longer, then began to strip off the layers of dusty linen. Her body was firm and lean from years of starvation and hard work, her back scored with perhaps a dozen ugly whip-weals. The warm soapy water felt indescribably good against her dry skin. She picked up a cloth and began to wash the caked on dirt and grime from her body, her hair, her face. When the water was as black as mud and Djana was pink and clean, she stood up and stepped out of the tub. The only thing to wear that wasn't totally filthy was the cloak, so she wrapped it around her shoulders and stepped out of the tub.  
"I'm done."  
The Imperial Guards still faced her, but she couldn't tell if they were looking or not. The prison guard turned around and tossed her a clean tunic.  
"Put this on and follow the Guards. Do what you're told and you might just find your sentence commuted. The Emperor wishes to employ you."  
"You have got to be fucking with me. What could the Emperor possibly want from a prisoner?"  
The guard leered unpleasantly at her.  
"Oh, I think he'll enjoy finding out more about your...talents, Gigan."  
It took Djana all of ten seconds to discern the man's meaning. She dropped the clean tunic in shock.  
"What! Oh no! No way! Just take me back to my cell right now, thanks so very much. I would really rather rot. I've seen plenty of pictu--"  
The guard hit her hard above the left temple with the butt of his taser, cutting her off before she could offer her assesment of Emperor Palpatine's physical appearance. She stumbled a bit, taking the blow, but didn't fall. A nasty gash had opened on her head, and she dabbed at it with the hem of the cloak.  
"All right, damn it. Don't just stand there and bleed at me. Put this thing on and follow the guards or you'll find yourself up to your neck in dewback shit for the next twenty years."  
"_I'll take the shit_." Djana said under her breath, but she offered no more resistance. Truthfully, she just didn't have it in her anymore. The new tunic itched and it was too small, but at least it was clean.  
She followed the guards out of the washroom, feeling sick.

The Emperor waited for her in the officer's barracks. He was cloaked, as always, and deceptively frail-looking. Just a gentle old man, horribly scarred and malformed, watching her with gleaming eyes. The power that flowed from beneath that robe was almost too much to bear. Djana felt like curling into a little ball and sobbing.  
"Well now...let's have a look at you. Guards, you may go." he whispered, and the Guards left.  
And Djana was alone with the Emperor, and he wasted no time. His scaly hands, bony and sharp and awful, touching her still-damp skin in the most horrible ways possible. The memories of that evening were too painful to bear.  
It was pure agony, and she knew that there would be no end in sight.

Coming home a day later - it would never be her home, not in a thousand years - with the Emperor, she was shown to a set of guest quarters that were more lush and expensive than anything she'd ever seen before. She was given gowns of pure silk, expensive bath oils and perfumes from far-away planets, and as much food as she wanted. But she was kept in utter seclusion, alone and miserable save for the infrequent visits of her horrible captor and the occasional excursion outdoors under heavy guard. There were other concubines, she sometimes saw glimpses of them through the filmy curtains of the balcony when they were outside in the garden. Beautiful women, even from a distance, and seemingly enjoying more freedom than she was. Djana never asked why they were granted the privilage of the garden without any guards and she was not. She knew.  
The Emperor couldn't trust her not to run away.  
It was a valid point. Given the slightest chance Djana would have been past the guards and out into the clean vastness of space on a stolen ship. Forget the silks and the food and the jewelry. Forget the cloying, loveless embraces of the Emperor. Oh yes...most especially forget those.  
A year passed in misery and sadness.

It was late in the afternoon during a rainstorm, and the skies above Coruscant were dark and brooding. Djana sat alone by the window, idly brushing her long dark hair for lack of anything better to do. The Emperor had been there the night before, and she still felt cold and awful inside from the experience. A tap at the door signaled the arrival of her handmaiden.  
"Come in." The door opened slowly, and a young Twi-lek slipped in, bearing a tray of fruit and a pitcher of wine.  
"Good evening, Mistress. Enjoying the storm?"  
"Fallah, I'm miserable. I don't enjoy anything. I know you won't bring me a passkey or a weapon or anything useful, but could you perhaps find it in your heart to bring a lump of poison sometime? I promise I would use it only on myself."  
The girl blushed and lowered her eyes.  
"I cannot, Mistress. Would you like me to draw you a bath?"  
Djana sighed, rising to her feet.  
"No thanks. I took several this morning. What I would like is to get outside for a little while. Will you convey my request to the guards?"  
"I will, Mistress."  
"Ridiculous, that I have to be led about like a tame bantha while those other women enjoy lots of freedom"  
"I will fetch a guard, Mistress." The Twi'lek said softly, and left the room. Djana grabbed a long velvet cloak and swirled it around her shoulders, covering her head with the soft purple hood. The hateful day that the Emperor first came for her, he had insisted that she always cover herself while in public. All of the cloaks made for her were lined with a pheremone-proof microfiber that kept her subtle scent from reaching the senses of any nearby males. He was viciously jealous, ridiculously so. As though Djana felt like dallying with any of the mindless pawns that surrounded him.

Hours passed, and no guard came. Djana finally took off the cloak, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting her face in her hands. She could feel the hate welling up inside her, opening her, freeing her. It gave her focus and power in a way, although she would have been hard put to explain why. Gigans had a natural connection to the Force, and Djana's misery made her more inclined to embrace the darkness rather than the light. Perhaps the Emperor sensed this - he seemed to have an uncanny ability to read the minds and emotions of others. Djana was an open book. A tattered, weary, angry open book. Her eyes flooded with moisture, and she dug at them with her nails to distract herself from the pain within.

He did not knock. All doors were open to a Sith Lord. Djana shot to her feet instantly when she heard the handle turn, and a moment later a nightmare in pristine black stood before her, huge and menacing.  
"Lord Vader..." she breathed. Awe was in her voice, and an odd respect. He had never harmed her, though she instinctively knew he would in an instant if his Master told him to do so.  
"Mistress Eleison. I would have words with you." His voice was abnormally, electronically low. She had never heard him raise that voice above its customary soft rumble. Did he even have a temper? Something told her not to test the question... ever.  
"I believe my schedule is clear at the moment, my Lord." Djana said rather shortly, betraying her irritation. "Sit down, Mistress. This discussion may take some time. And you may want to tend to your wounded eye"  
Djana touched her face, and was surprised to see her finger come away bloody. She must have dug a bit too deeply in her attempt to stem the flow of tears. She looked at the floor, ashamed. "I...had an itch." she mumbled lamely. Though Vader did not believe her, he had the social grace to refrain from commenting. Djana slipped into the bathroom and washed her face, her hands trembling as they always did when He was near. It wasn't fear exactly, but something very much akin to it shrank her heart and pinched her stomach every time she was faced with the armored warrior.  
When she emerged from the small room, Vader was standing near the window with his back to her, watching the long lines of ships move through the gathering dusk.  
"My Lord?"  
He didn't turn around. "You will sit down."  
After she'd settled on a white velvet settee, the Sith Lord turned to regard her with his inscrutable gaze. "It is the will of the Emperor that you begin training in the Dark Arts, that you may better serve him. I have enlisted the aide of several teachers already, and more will follow. We will leave today for Asheron, the asteroid where your training will commence."  
Djana blinked, surprised.  
"What?"  
Vader gracefully waved away her question.  
"To begin with, you will be taught the lore of the Force by an exceptional scholar. Next you will craft your own lightsaber. These things will take some time. I daresay you will find yourself with very little free time in the coming months."  
"That would be a blessing, my Lord." Djana said bitterly. Vader sat back in the chair and regarded her with an unreadable stare.  
"You are miserable." he noted. Djana would have laughed if he were anyone else. As it was, she felt the sting of tears beginning in the corners of her eyes again.

"Yes, my Lord Vader. You are correct. I am miserable."

"Perhaps you could be so kind as to explain why. You have everything a woman of your birth could hope for, and a great deal beyond. Protection, prestige, the attentions of a powerful man. Material possessions of the highest quality and servants to care for your every need. I am curious as to your reasons for being dissatisfied."  
Djana toyed with a fold of her robe, not meeting Vader's gaze.  
What did she have to lose? Her life? Her freedom? Both were distant memories. Even dying in great pain beneath the fury of a Sith Lord seemed sweeter than accepting the putrid seed of the Emperor between her shaking legs even one more time. She looked up, defiant in the face of death.  
"I hate him. I hate the Emperor with every ounce of my heart and soul. Damn the material gifts and damn the servants. Damn the prestige and especially damn the attentions of the Emperor. He disgusts me in every way possible. I would rather die than spend another night with him, and if you want to kill me for saying so, then so be it. I'm ready to die. Now."  
Vader shook his head irritably.  
"Calm yourself, Mistress Eleison. This outburst is most unbecoming. I am well aware of the reasons behind your unrest, and I do not hold any ill feelings toward you for those opinions"  
Djana snapped her gaze up to meet his. Acceptance was the last thing she had anticipated.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

Moments lost while time remains

I am so proud of what we were

No pain remains, no feeling

Eternity Awaits.  
Grant me wings that I might fly

My restless soul is longing

No pain remains, no feeling

Eternity awaits.  
---------------------VNV Nation, 'Beloved'--------------------

Djana shook her head slowly, still surprised. What could he possibly mean?  
"My Lord...I don't understand."  
Vader sighed, an explosive sound in the breath mask.  
"Your distaste for the Emperor is understandable. I am shocked that you have made absolutely no attempt to kill him, in fact. Perhaps there is a part of you that truly enjoys this lifestyle." He rose to his feet, towering over her in the pale illumination coming through the ridiculously thin curtains. Djana found herself wondering whether he ever hated his own Master, whether this was some form of test that might still result in her torture and demise.

"You are cruel to mock my position, my Lord."  
"And you, Mistress Eleison, know nothing of my cruelty."  
"I have heard enough to keep me awake at night."  
"Your pathetic wailing disturbs my rest as well."  
Djana pursed her lips, glaring as high as she dared, which place the level of her eyes somewhere near his chest.  
"Kind of you to come running to my rescue, Lord Vader."  
"Why should I? You chose your path as I did once, long ago. That we suffer now is our affair."  
It was the first time he'd admitted to suffering, and Djana found herself suddenly feeling a kinship with the big warrior that was unsettling in its intensity. She laid a small white hand on his armored bicep.  
"Do not touch me." he rumbled, pulling back.  
Djana recoiled as though struck, frowning.  
"I was merely trying to..."  
"To comfort me? Me? I do not tolerate comfort. I remove it, I do not accept it. Keep in your place, Mistress."  
The stinging in her eyes vanished in a hot rush of anger.  
"Yes, My Lord. Please return to your Master and tell him that I accept his offer of training, and that I look forward to the day when I can be of more use to him than as a mere pleasure slave. I will be ready for your teaching whenever you wish to come for me. Until then, I bid you good day, sir."  
Vader nodded curtly and turned to go.  
Before he stepped out into the hall, he turned to regard her with his opaque obsidian stare once again.  
"Your bravery is most impressive, Mistress Eleison. It would seem that there are some small parts of you that the Emperor has not yet tainted. Given time, you will be as mindless a plaything as the rest of his whores. But for now, your resilience is...fascinating." And then he was gone.  
Djana sank down onto the bed once more, shaking like a leaf with a mixture of rage and sorrow and pure, sweet fear. There was something else as well, something in the pit of her stomach that was beginning to grow from mere ember into a flame.  
It was hope.  
Darth Vader was willing to train her, willing to teach her to become more powerful in the eyes of the Emperor as well as bettering her position immensely. Was this kindness? Somehow she very much doubted that he was capable of kindness. Still, the gesture was very much appreciated.

She looked down at her hand, the one that had touched his arm. The battle armor was hot to the touch...it must be unbearable inside the suit. What had happened to him that necissitated such hardware? Djana had heard stories, something about a battle with his old Master and a river of fire that burned away his flesh. It must have been horrifically painful. She closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to experience such sensation. The idea escaped her, and she lay down.  
Hours passed.

Another slave down the hall began weeping, and there was a clink of metal on metal as a key was turned in a lock. More silence, more heavy and oppressive and irritating silence. The space traffic outside thrummed underneath everything, it could be felt rather than heard at all hours of the day and night. Djana pulled her dress over her head and lay naked in the silvery light from the citrine lamps.

Deep in the belly of the castle a scream suddenly sounded, far away and horrible. Then another, longer, more full of agony and fear. Djana was willing to bet her freedom that Vader was the catalyst for that scream. His prowess as a torture methodologist was legendary, and the Emperor used him liberally to question high-level captives.

She shut her eyes again, squeezed them closed tightly enough to cause bright yellow spots to appear behind her lids. The thought of being there, before him on one of those long steel slabs that were bolted to the floor of the interrogation room, played out in her mind. She would be naked, as she was now, her wrists and ankles encased in manacles to prevent her from struggling. Vader's black-gloved hands lightly caressing the tools he would use to torture her.  
Destroy her. Bend her spirit, her resolve, the transparisteel battlements she'd carefully erected around her heart. In her imagination, he looked down at her prone form, his unreadable gaze laying her open as easily as the blade of an axe.  
_"Are you ready?"_ he rumbled.  
There was only one answer. She felt it rising in her throat as she stared helplessly up at him, at Lord Vader, the armored warrior in black that held all the galaxy in thrall.  
_"Break me, my Lord..."_ she whispered.

And she knew that he would. That he would break her as surely as the sun would rise the next morning, and that he would never stop the endless torment of her body and her soul. The horror of it, the blood and the tears and the erotic agony would meld together in an orgasm of violence. And she would be his, as she already was, as she knew she'd been from the moment he first spoke her name.

Djana's eyes snapped open in shock as the full implication of her fantasy sizzled her brain. Palpatine would kill her for such thoughts. Vader would be disgusted...perhaps. And her own heart rebelled at such a vicious image as the one that had tingled her spine only a moment before. But the beauty of it, and those oddly compelling screams that still emanated from somewhere deep beneath the floor of her bedchamber, spelled doom for her reason.

Her eyelids were heavy and her mind was sore. Djana pulled the velvet coverlet up and over her chest, nestling down into the pillows. Tomorrow the Emperor would call for her, would tell her what he desired of her, and Vader would begin to twist her into a pawn of the war. And Djana would do as she was told.  
But only to further her own ends. When she was powerful enough, strong enough in the Dark Side of the Force, she would turn her hollow souless gaze to Palpatine.

And the tortures of the past would be paid for in blood.


	3. Chapter 3

If love be truth than live no lies

Let me swim around your eyes

I've found a place I'll never leave

Shut my mouth and just believe

Love is the truth I realize

Not a stream of pretty lies

To use us up, and waste our time.

---'Pure and Simple', The Lightening Seeds ---------

* * *

Djana woke long before she needed to, with the sounds of her nocturnal terrors and desires ringing clear and full in her ears. Sunlight, pale and watery, poured through the curtains and tormented her face with a taste of illusory freedom. She settled back against the grey and green velvet pillows, turning her mind to the day ahead.  
Today, she would begin learning to develop her abilities. Today, the years of forced indolence and impotent fury would be blown away like the hollow husk of a cicada's shed skin. Today she would take up her position, not at the feet of the loathsome Emperor, but kneeling before the black-clad, black-souled Sith Lord to whom her allegiance had always belonged somehow.  
Djana stretched, then rose naked from the bed and moved to stand in front of the window.  
Again, he did not knock.  
A Sith Lord never knocks.  
"I had thought you were resting, Mistress Eleison."  
She turned around slowly, making no move to cover herself. What was the point? He could see into her very soul, and how could mere clothing ever be adequate to shield her from that terrible gaze?  
"I cannot rest. The screams you inspired last night still echo in my head."  
He seemed to nod ever so slightly, acknowledging what she'd guessed hours before.  
"The damned never sleep, so they say."  
"Are you suggesting I'm damned?"  
"Are you suggesting you are not?"

There was really no reply to this. Languidly, Djana slipped a robe over her shoulders and sat down at the small table.

"When does my training begin?"  
"This afternoon, Mistress Eleison. I expect you to be ready."  
"Are you to be my Master?"  
He regarded her in silence. There was something terribly unnatural about the way he sat perfectly still, hands folded, silent as a statue. Finally he spoke.  
"Mistress Eleison, you are already aware of the answer to that."

His words slammed into her stomach like a concussion grenade.  
Of course she knew. The next words she spoke, she was not even consciously aware of.  
"You have been my Master since the day we met."  
He inclined his head in the subtlest indication of assent.  
"The student knows when the Master presents themself. It was the same with me. You will learn from me, follow my teachings, trust my guidance in all things and in doing so become more valuable to the Emperor than you have ever dreamed possible."  
"I would welcome that, my Lord."  
"I expect you to obey me."  
"I would dream of no less, Lord Vader. Command me."  
He rose to his feet, a midnight menace in the still white doldrums of her life.  
"I question your motives, Mistress."

Djana dropped her gaze, staring at the folded hands in her lap. They seemed alien to her, the hands of someone else that had been somehow grafted to her arms. These hands had done terrible things, unspeakable things for the man she was forced to serve. But they had never killed, never harmed, never been more than instruments of vile putrid pleasure before. She raised her eyes to the inscrutable black mask once more.

"I will become more than what I am or I will die, Lord Vader. But I have one request before we proceed down this path."  
"You dare?" It was not said in rage. His voice indicated a certain amount of grim amusement rather than irritation at her impertinence. Djana swallowed hard, then rose to her feet as well and stood before him.  
"If I should fail - "  
"You will be killed, I would imagine."  
"If I should fail," Djana repeated, more firmly this time, "And death is the punishment chosen for me, then I ask for the privilage of choosing the manner in which my sentence is carried out."  
"And this would entail?"  
"You, my Lord. If I am to be killed, I ask only that I die at the hands of my true Master. I haven't had much honor in my life, and not much glory either. To die beneath your power is both, and it is the only thing I request."

He was silent for a while, the only sound his metallic breathing. Then he extended a huge black hand to her, and she tentatively grasped it in the standard gesture of agreement.  
"Mistress Eleison, if you fail I will see to it that your fate is carried out just as you have asked." There was a hint of something new in his voice, perhaps laughter. Perhaps respect. "But I warn you; do not fail."  
"It is not my intention, my Lord."  
His grip was strong, made doubly so by the power of the durasteel hydraulics at work somewhere beyond those black gloves. She wondered if he could feel her hand shake slightly as he touched her.

"Could you crush a man's skull with this hand?" she found herself asking suddenly. Vader tilted his head to one side, a tone of cool amusement tinging his voice when he answered her.  
"If need be. I have never been asked to do so physically before."  
"But our master has asked many other things of you."  
"And I will ask many things of you as well, Mistress."  
That gave her pause, and she drew closer without even realizing it. Hypnotizing, the play of light across that gleaming metallic helm, the fathomless unreadable eye areas never blinking.

"What would you ask of me?" Djana asked quietly. The Sith Lord tightened his grip on her hand ever so slightly, and she gasped from the pain. He pulled her against the cold steel of his chest, menacing and beautiful as a demon from the very deepest parts of the nightmares that she never had anymore.  
His other hand drew forth from somewhere beneath his cloak the handle of his light saber. With a casual flick, the gleaming energy weapon sprang to life. Djana did not flinch, and she did not look away from his eyes. Her breath was suddenly coming very fast, and her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she was certain he could hear it.  
She had never been this close to him before.  
"Take this saber in your right hand and drive it through the palm of your left, Mistress Eleison." He rumbled softly. She blinked, surprised, the spell broken.  
"What?"  
"I said," he released her hand and thrust the pommel of the light saber into it, "Drive the point of this weapon through your hand. Now."  
"My Lord, I - "  
"I have given you an order."  
Djana began to tremble. She looked down at her small white hand and it suddenly seemed fragile and vulnerable in the light of the hissing energy beam. She gritted her teeth and lifted her hand up, hovering for a moment over the glowing tip of the blade. The anticipation of what would surely be unbearable agony was horrible. She looked beseechingly up at the sith Lord before her. His gaze, as always, was impassive.

And she drove the light saber through her hand.

The shock of pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, and she fell to her knees instantly, dropping the light saber with a scream. The stink of burning flesh was horrible. She cradled the injured hand against her chest, her eyes squeezed shut and fighting hard to keep from losing conciousness. It was worse than any beating she had ever received, worse than the vile intrusions of the Emperor, worse than the imagined tortures she longed for beneath the ministrations of her new Master.  
And then he was on his knees beside her, prising her hand away from the injured palm and taking it into both of his with an almost gentle insistance.  
Through her tears, Djana watched as he pressed a spotless black clad finger to the wound, pulling a vial of painkiller from a compartment on his side and pouring it into the smoking hole through her hand. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. Was this mercy? Mercy from the most feared and reviled creature in all the many worlds that the Empire held in thrall? She leaned against him, and suddenly wished with all her heart for the power to reach behind his mask, his armor, and touch the flesh beneath. Would it be warm? Or as cold as the metal that forever barred him from the world?

And then the moment of tenderness was over, and he pulled her roughly to her feet and pushed her into a chair. "You hesitated, Mistress Eleison." He said, and it was an accusation. There was anger in his voice.  
"F-forgive me, my Lord. It will not happen again."  
"See that it does not. You must learn to submit to my every command with out question, and without cowardice."  
"I will."  
"Consider this your first lesson. You will not find me as forgiving in the future."  
Djana looked up at him, drying her eyes with her uninjured hand.  
"Master, I will not fail you."  
He said nothing, and a minute later he'd swept from the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Djana was furious with herself for her weakness, and spent a great deal of time brooding over the wound in her hand, ahich was already scarring over. The painkiller he'd given her was laced with a potent restorative, and inside an hour her hand bore nothing more serious than a small white scar.  
She stared at it, concentrating. It was the first badge of her transformation, something like a medal in a way.  
To anyone else it would have merely been a scar.  
To Djana it was more. It was the lingering kiss of a lover, and she treasured it for the rest of her life.

The guards came for her as promised at three in the afternoon, and she went with them determined not to show the Emperor any fear. It was with a lighter heart than ever before that she found herself standing in front of the door to his chambers. She raised her hand and pressed the call button.  
"Enter." A mechanical voice instructed, and she did so.


End file.
